Enduring Survival
by Herverus Grape
Summary: A prequel and continuation of "A Day in the Life of a Houselife". Hogwarts is attacked, and the survivors find that their lives are changed forever.
1. Prolouge

ES-Prologue  
  
  
  
This story is based upon the characters and situations written by the incomparable JKR. The rights to these belong to her and others and I am using them only for my own personal amusement and receive absolutely no monetary reward for doing so.  
  
  
  
Author's note: For those of you who enjoyed (if that word can be used in this context) my "A Day in the Life of a Houseslave", here is both the prequel and continuation of that story. I would suggest that you read that story first before beginning this one.  
  
  
** Enduring Survival**  
  
_That which can not be changed, must be endured._  
  
  
** Prologue**  
  
  
  
Severus Snape was a notoriously light sleeper. His bouts of insomnia, which was first appeared during his school years, guaranteed that the amount of time that he spent sleeping in his bed was scant. He had long ago given up as useless the attempts to remain upon the mattress, tossing and turning until his body and mind finally surrendered reluctantly to the weariness that was weighing heavily upon them. Instead, he preferred to use his pent-up energy to prowl the halls, prepare potions or sit, absorbed in a book while the rest of Hogwarts appeared to snooze peacefully around him. This, of course, had presented some difficulties when he was a student and forced to observe the curfew rules and the heckling of his fellow dormitory mates, who rather objected to their own sleep being disturbed by his restless nocturnal activities.   
  
But his current position as a teacher and his solitary living arrangements ensured that few people took note of his sleeping (or rather, nonsleeping) habits now. And, since it was the Christmas holiday and most of the students dawdled in their beds past breakfast, it would mean that his own failure to appear in the Great Hall for that meal would not arose any notice. It was with some satisfaction that he had reluctantly crawled between his bedcovers at five o'clock in the morning, anticipating that he might end up sleeping until mid-afternoon with no one remarking upon his absence or disturbing his well-earned rest.  
  
Not to say that he was ever anything but the lightest of sleepers. He knew from past experience that even the faint buzzing of an insect, or the slight rustle engendered by a single piece of parchment falling upon the floor was enough to rouse him. So when he found himself sitting up in bed, the sound of the blast still reverberating in the air, he was certain that there had been no warning of the attack.   
  
  
  



	2. Chapter One

ES1  
  
** Chapter One:**  
  
It was a clearly a tremendous force which had hit the structure, not only in physical but magical terms, for the spells and enchantments which guarded the thick blocks of stone which comprised the castle walls had guaranteed their impregnability for centuries. To feel the whole structure shake as it did could only mean that whoever was assaulting the edifice had not only formidable Dark Magic at their command, but a sizable attack force and, undoubtedly, intimate knowledge of where the two should be applied for maximum effect.  
  
As he hurriedly threw on his clothes there came the sound of two more explosions. For a brief moment, after the second, there was the sound of agonized shrieks and screams, even though this blast seemed curiously softer than the first. After the third explosion, by contrast, his sensitive ears caught the faint sound of cheering and applause. He was not particularly surprised, therefore, as he rushed out of his rooms that there were no further detonations. He had no doubt that the aggressors had succeeded in hitting all of their intended targets and were now regrouping to make a careful and organized invasion of the weakened structure and its besieged inhabitants.  
  
He wavered for a moment in the hall, debating whether to simply progress to the Great Hall or to first make his way to the Slytherin dormitory. He was unsure whether his presence would protect or condemn the students who had been caught there during the initial attack. There were only two students of his house remaining at the school over the break, twins in the third year whose parents were supposedly on holiday in South America. As he came to his decision and directed his steps toward the dormitory he found himself wondering if the mother and father had actually left the country. They had always appeared to be rabidly loyal Death Eaters after all, and he would not be terribly surprised if they were at this moment part of the contingent mounting the attack. The thought of parents willingly sacrificing their children to the Dark Lord's greater glory no longer sickened him as it once had. On the other hand, it could be that, like himself, the parents had been kept in ignorance of the plan to strike Hogwarts. Which could only mean the Voldemort viewed them at best as minor figures, and at worse, as expendable ones. No, he corrected himself, he much rather hoped that the Dark Lord found him expendable rather than traitorous.   
  
As he paused in front of the Slytherin dormitory to give the password that would cause the heavy metal gate to swing open, he felt an icy chill brush at his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw that the Bloody Baron had appeared, in an unusually high state of agitation. But whether it was due to concern for Hogwarts or its inhabitants, or simply because he was excited at the prospect of fighting and bloodshed, he was not sure.  
  
"There's been an attack!" breathed the Baron.  
  
Snape barely managed to bite back a sarcastic retort along the lines of: "Thank you very much for stating the obvious." Instead, he merely grunted in agreement as he reached down to retrieve his wand from the pocket of his robe. Strange, given his usually suspicious nature, that he had ventured so far without it already.  
  
"You seem surprised," noted his ghostly companion in a tone of bemused wonder.  
  
Keeping his wand pointed at the door, Snape turned and regarded the phantom contemptuously. "I am tired of your innuendoes," he hissed. Although outwardly cordial to each other, as befitted their relationship as Head and Resident Ghost of the House of Slytherin, he had become quite annoyed with the Baron of late. His cryptic comments of the past year seemed to indicate that he was either unwilling to believe that Snape was sincerely loyal to Dumbledore or that he had his doubts as to whether Voldemort regarded him as a truly valuable spy. Perhaps he meant to imply both. At any rate, Snape had found that it was safest to offer no reply to the Slytherin's ghosts insinuations. The only thing more dangerous than his current precarious position as a double spy was to admit aloud just how vulnerable you were.  
  
Barking out the password, he kept his wand held firmly in a defensive position as the portal swung open. Inside, the two students were standing in the middle of the common room, hastily dressed with their trousers pulled on underneath their nightshirts and their shoes and socks still carried in their hands. They stood for a moment, the man and the ghost quickly examining the room for evidence of invasion as the two boys began shouting at the top of the lungs, demanding to know what was going on.  
  
"SILENCE!" thundered Snape, simultaneously raising his wand and setting off a large stream of red sparks. Behind him, he heard and ignored the sound of the Baron's chuckles.  
  
The boys hastily shut their mouths and stood staring at him as he continued his search of the chamber. Satisfied that there were as yet no invaders within this area, he returned his attention to the students.  
  
"Do you wish to live?" he asked, calmly.  
  
They dumbly nodded their assent.  
  
"Then may I suggest that you finish dressing and follow me to the Potions storeroom. I shall lock and ward the room and set a mark upon the door that will only be visible to Death Eaters. I recommend that when they arrive and break down the door that you immediately fall down upon your knees and thank them for delivering you from the chains of the former Headmaster's ignorance."  
  
The boys nodded once more and sat down upon the couch to hurriedly put on their shoes. As they got to their feet, a perplexed look appeared on one of the boy's faces.  
  
"But, please, sir, what to we do if someone else lets us out?" he whispered.  
  
As the Bloody Baron's laughter echoed behind him, Snape closed his eyes and sighed deeply for a moment.  
  
"How ever did you manage to be placed in Slytherin?" he chided, opening his eyes. He sighed again before continuing, "Then, of course, you may proclaim that I as your loving head of house locked you in there for your own protection after you threatened to rush out and join the defense of the castle." Turning on his heel, he stormed back out through the door.  
  
As the quartet made their way to the storeroom, he noted that his left forearm seemed to be pulsing with heat at regular intervals. That could only mean, as he already suspected, that the Death Eaters were steadily gaining ground.   
  
There had not been another word spoken as he unlocked the door of the storeroom and ushered them inside. After assuring himself that the room would remain adequately ventilated he closed the door again, taking several minutes to place a variety of wards and enchantments upon it. Keeping his wand in his hand, he turned to go toward the stairs.  
  
"So where are you going now?" asked the Baron.  
  
"To the Great Hall, of course," he answered, coolly. "It was the agreed-upon meeting place in case of an attack."  
  
"Rather curious that Dumbledore hasn't given out instructions, isn't it?" The Baron's tone was politely inquisitive.  
  
"Obviously he is either not upon the grounds or has already been disabled," Snape replied, heading up the stairs.   
  
The Baron continued to glide at his side. "Or he is deceased?" he asked, quietly.  
  
Snape shook his head resolutely as he stepped onto the landing. "No," he replied shortly.   
  
"How can-"  
  
"Because this whole building would be in a shambles if he was dead," he answered. He stopped and gazed around him. "The castle has been battered, but is still holding. If Dumbledore were dead, most of the protective charms he has placed upon these stones would cease to exist as well." He glanced back at the Baron. "I believe you were instructed, in case of an attack, to remain in the dungeons and monitor the situation from there?"  
  
"Yes," replied the ghost, continuing to hover in the hallway, as if considering the matter thoughtfully. "I suppose," he said, finally, "That my loyalty to Salazar Slytherin and to Hogwarts demand that I do so." Shrugging his shoulders, he turned and drifted back down the staircase.  
  
"Yes," thought Snape, as he continued on through the halls, "Wasn't that convenient?" He, on the other hand, was going to have to act and think quickly if accosted by other side. He supposed his delay in appearing in the Great Hall could be explained honestly by his assertion that he had stopped to protect the members of his own House first. It would certainly be accepted as not unexpected behavior on his part. But encountering Death Eaters would be much more tricky. If they were, as he suspected, prepared to kill all members of the Hogwarts' staff on sight there was a good chance that a Death Eater with no knowledge of his role as a Double Spy would be thrilled to cast the killing curse upon him. But given the fact that Voldemort had not deigned to inform him of his plans, he rather surmised that he was already marked as a turncoat. So even those that he counted amount his most intimate acquaintances might be jockeying for position in hopes of delivering his singed hide to the Dark Lord.  
  
In the end, there was no need for either dueling or negotiation, as he completed his journey to the Great Hall without encountering a single soul. Stepping into the vast chamber, he noted that it was sparsely populated and that there was an ominous cloud building outside of the large stain-glassed windows at the farthest end of the room. A quick sweep of his eyes confirmed the fact the only members of the staff who had preceded him here were Madam Pomfrey and Professor Flitwick. The former was attending to several bodies lying upon magically-summoned stretchers while the latter, his face bloody and bruised, was standing upon the Ravenclaw table and staring down blankly at the floor. A few students were milling quietly about the room, and he recognized in an instant that they were all members of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, with nary a Gryffindor in sight. One of the sixth year Ravenclaws, the strange one with the protruding eyes and long blonde hair, was passing out a large tankard of something to her fellow students, encouraging them all to take a sip of whatever beverage or potion she was offering them. On the other side of the table, one of the Patil twins-he assumed it was the Ravenclaw prefect-was anxiously pacing back and forth.  
  
"Flitwick?" he asked, as he neared the tiny wizard.  
  
With an audible gasp, the small man started out of his reverie and peered blankly at him for several seconds before a flash of recognition swept across his face. "Severus! Thank the gods you're all right!" he squeaked, hurrying to climb down from his perch.  
  
"What exactly has happened?"  
  
"Well, I-" The other wizard paused and clasped his hands in front of him, the fingers twining helpless for a moment as he struggled to collect his thoughts. "I was on my way to the staff lounge when I heard the first blast," he finally said. He paused again and there was no mistaking the disbelief and shock in his voice.  
  
Snape nodded and waited for him to continue.  
  
"I-I didn't know whether or not to go in the direction of the sound or if I should continue on my way and collect the others. Everyone was gathered there you know, for the Boxing Day celebration."  
  
"Yes." Snape frowned and crossed his arms. Now that more and more of the houseelves had reluctantly agreed to accept their freedom, some of the staff had insisted that they continue that honored British tradition. Thus, on that on the day after Christmas, those who normally attended to others were instead treated to a day of leisure and rest. A large breakfast for the houseelves had been planned, with the Professors serving the meal to the little creatures in a specially-decorated Staff Room. It had been just another reason why he had gladly retreated to his bed, although he knew both the teachers and the elves would have been astounded to see him make an appearance at the celebration.  
  
"Well, I had decided it was best if we traveled together as a group, so I headed toward the staff room. That's when I heard and felt the second explosion." His hand brushed against the large scratches upon his face and Snape realized that there were large splinters embedded in the flesh as well. "The door came flying off the hinges before I could react." Flitwick turned and gestured helplessly towards the stretchers. "Whatever spell they used, it was even more horrible than _Avada Kedavra_," he whispered. "The bodies of the teachers and the elves were nothing but charred skin and bones by the time I reached the threshold. The only ones left alive were Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch. I think only because they had just entered the room and were farther away from the explosion than the others were." His voice dropped even lower, "And Poppy is not sure she will be able to save them." Pausing to brush the tears from his eye, he looked back at Snape. "Thank Merlin you hadn't arrived yet, Severus."  
  
"Yes," said Snape, walking past him to take a closer look at Pomfrey's patients. He saw no point in telling him that he had forgotten about the inane celebration, and would sooner have awarded points to Gryffindor than to attend it in the first place.  
  
Madam Pomfrey barely bothered to bestow a glance upon him as she continued to care for her patients. Madam Hooch's robes were in tatters, the edges burnt and frayed and what he could see of her skin between the bandages that Pomfrey was still wrapping around her looked raw and painful. Taking a step to the side, he studied Sprout as well, and thought initially that she looked to be in much better condition than her compatriot. Then he realized that the flying instructor's body must have been standing directly in front of the portly witch when the blast occurred. For while there were scorch marks upon the left and right side of her body, the middle seemed comparatively untouched, as if the heat from the explosion had been partially deflected from that area. In fact, he could almost make out the silhouette of the thin, wiry Hooch by following the pattern of the burn marks.  
  
"Obviously," he said, reluctantly drawing his eyes away from this rather macabre spectacle, "The Staff Room was specifically targeted in order to eliminate as many of the staff-both teachers and houseelves-as possible," he commented.  
  
"Yes," Pomfrey replied quietly, as her nimble fingers continued to work away tirelessly.  
  
He felt a chill run through him as he continued to consider the matter. Although it might be argued that the Dark Lord would be certain that Snape would never deign to attend such a banal gathering, it was certainly not incontrovertible evidence that he could have been expected to survive the attack unscathed. More worryingly, it begged the question as to just who had been feeding information about the staff's activities to Voldemort-since Snape had not found the Boxing Day Breakfast to be worthy of mention.  
  
"And where was the first blast centered?" he asked, although he already suspected he knew the answer.  
  
"The Headmaster's office," came the reply from his elbow. Flitwick had joined them.  
  
Snape swayed slightly and felt his already pallid complexion lose even more color. That would seem to explain why Dumbledore's amplified voice had not immediately resounded through the school, assuring the students and giving instructions to the staff. And yet...  
  
He shook his head and looked around the room again. As he had told the Baron, if Albus was dead, the destruction would have been far more extensive that it appeared to be.  
  
"But Albus was not there," he stated quietly.  
  
"No," said Flitwick. "He had told me this morning, in strictest confidence, that he was awaiting a summons at any time from the British Prime Minister for an important meeting between the Ministry and the Muggle government."  
  
"I see," Snape replied slowly, looking slightly surprised. It was unlike Albus not to inform him of such an important development.  
  
"Oh, Severus, he asked me to tell you," assured the tiny Wizard. "I just happened to call on him early this morning in order to make the final arrangements for-" He paused and appeared to be on the verge of tears again, "the party."  
  
"But, perhaps," he said, a frown wrinkling his forehead, "He was in the office and is merely injured rather than killed."  
  
"No." This was Pomfrey's voice. "We were able to get into the office even though it was a shambles with most of the walls blasted away. But a few of the portraits had survived and were able to assure us that the Headmaster had managed to safely floo away from his office just before the blast occurred."  
  
Snape's head was beginning to pound. It was logical that the two events were somehow connected. Even a wizard of Dumbledore's powers could not easily remove himself magically from within the enchanted walls of the castle. Had the momentary lowering of the wards to allow his exit also exposed a vulnerability that the attackers had used to their advantage? It seemed reasonable that the message that had prompted his departure was counterfeit, orchestrated by the Death Eaters in order to facilitate their assault. It again pointed to the probability that they had a carefully-placed informant within the school. But why purposefully attack the man's office if not to hurt the man himself?  
  
"Because," he heard his mind whisper, "The Dark Lord seeks to weaken Dumbledore by hurting the people and the institution that he loves." He shook his head and murmured, "So they attacked an empty office."  
  
"No, not empty."   
  
Pomfrey was moving towards the third stretcher. The blanket upon this pallet was pulled over the body, and he had assumed that its occupant had died. As the mediwitch folded back the covering, he realized his mistake.  
  
Professor McGonagall was not dead, as could be instantly ascertained by the fact that her mouth was open, the lips moving slightly as her green eyes were darted restlessly about the room. But it was not, as he first assumed, because she was in shock. No, her face, though slightly smudged and scratched, registered no emotion-not horror, fear, anger, or even confusion over what had occurred. And the eyes themselves were curiously blank and...soulless.  
  
Snape swallowed and covered her face with the blanket again. This covering was not a shroud that sought to give dignity to the dead, it was a shield to protect the survivors from glancing upon a fate worse than death.  
  
"Dementors," he said resignedly, running a suddenly tired hand through his hair.  
  
"Yes," answered Pomfrey. She opened her mouth to say something else, but at that moment the blonde Ravenclaw who had been wandering through the hall, delivering doses of medicine returned to her side.  
  
"They've all taken it, Ma'am," she said, her voice soft, polite and dreamily vague as usual. Snape caught the vague scent of chocolate as the now-empty tankard was handed to the Mediwitch.  
  
"Good," she replied, taking the mug and placing it upon one of the benches.  
  
"Except for Padma," the girl added, shrugging her shoulders and pointing at the girl who was still anxiously pacing up and down. "She said she wouldn't keep it down anyway, worrying about her sister."  
  
Snape nodded, suddenly comprehending. "The third blast was centered upon Gryffindor Tower?" he asked.   
  
"Yes," answered Flitwick sadly.  
  
"I will assume there were no survivors?"  
  
"No!" said Flitwick, but there was a sudden urgency in his voice again. "There very well might be, but we simply have not been able to make our way there to see for certain. The staircase leading to their quarters had been totally destroyed." He gestured around the hall again. "But we wanted to gather all the other students and Poppy insisted upon attending to the injured we had already found before we dared try to make our way through the rubble."  
  
"Yes," he replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Apparently, no one had found it necessary to go searching for his Slytherin charges either. "It would appear," he said, raising his voice, "That it is time to evacuate Hogwarts."  
  
Pomfrey gazed up at the tall wizard, with an expression of surprise.  
  
"But-" began Flitwick.  
  
"Yes," continued Snape, "I am quite aware that the order should technically only be given by the Headmaster or deputy Headmistress, but it appears that neither are currently in a position to give the decree." He glanced at Pomfrey and Flitwick again. "I certainly intend to instruct my students to use the escape route immediately." As Flitwick opened his mouth, Snape waved his hand and continued, "Yes, Flitwick, my own students are quite unharmed and currently locked away in the dungeons. A safe enough precaution for the short term, but it would appear ludicrous for us to even hope to mount a defense against our attackers given our current numbers. Therefore," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "It would appear much more prudent to beat a hasty retreat."  
  
"But, Severus, are you sure that the route is open?" asked Pomfrey, knitting her brows.  
  
"Definitely," he replied.  
  
"But where is it?" squeaked Flitwick.  
  
"Behind the large mirror on the fourth floor," replied Snape. "Now I suggest that we temporarily split-"  
  
"Oh, no, Professor."   
  
Snape turned to stare at the speaker with a great deal of annoyance. "I beg your pardon, Miss Lovegood?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, you see, Professor, I've heard that the secret passageway that used to be there has been caved in for years," she replied. Her wand was stuck in its usual position position behind her ear and she was smiling in a most condescending manner.  
  
"Read it in 'The Scribbler' did you?" he asked, sarcastically.  
  
As usual, the twit seemed oblivious to his scornful tone. "No, actually-" she began.  
  
"It has been charmed to appear that way," he hissed.  
  
"Oh!" she replied, blinking her eyes slowly.  
  
"The Headmaster determined years ago that it would be best if one of the largest secret passageways and escape routes would be presumed to be impassable, for an occasion just like our present predicament," he continued. "The attackers would conclude we had no way of leaving the grounds and furthermore it was meant to discourage any attempt to sneak_ into_ the castle by the same route."  
  
"Of course!" exulted Flitwick, clapping his small hands together. "Charms similar to those which are used to protect Hogwarts itself from Muggle intrusion. Although, it must be a combination of several spells in order to confound wizards and witches as well," he added, frowning.  
  
"But, undoubtedly, a Charms Professor will be able to perform the undoing of the enchantment with ease," Snape drawled.  
  
"But, Severus, we can not leave until we are sure that there are no other survivors," objected Pomfrey.  
  
"No, but on the other hand," he said, stepping close to her and dropping his voice to a whisper, "Do you really think that Madam Hooch or Professor Sprout have any hope of living unless they are transferred to St. Mungo's as soon as possible?"  
  
"No," she admitted, shaking her head, "But still-"  
  
"What I am suggesting is that we split up," he said, holding up his hand. "You and Flitwick are needed to clear the passageway and care for the wounded during the difficult journey. I, on the other hand, will return to the dungeons to free my students and instruct them to follow you through the escape route. And then I shall journey to Gryffindor Tower." He sighed and gazed up at the ceiling. "I assure you that I have no intention on leaving the premises until I have been able to account for the whereabouts of all the students."  
  
"Well, I'm not leaving without my sister!" This was Padma Patel's voice. The dark-haired witch had also joined the little group.  
  
Snape regarded her with interest, his black eyes sweeping up and down her frame before replying. "Since you are a seventh-year and quite capable with a wand, I see no reason why you should not accompany me" he replied.  
  
"Then I'll come too," said Luna. "After all, I've already fought Death Eaters two years ago," she noted in a voice that was still quiet and dreamy.  
  
"Yes," he murmured, his dark eyes running speculatively over her thin body as well. "It would appear that you would be a suitable candidate for this mission as well."  
  
"But, Severus, be reasonable," sputtered Flitwick. "We cannot leave them behind-"  
  
"Filius, as I have already stated," said Snape, his voice rising slightly. "You and Pomfrey are required to clear the passage and deal with the casualties. Now, we can either continue to argue this point, giving the Death Eaters ample time to invade the castle itself and capture or kill us all." He paused and pointed toward the window, which was now almost totally obscured by the thick black cloud, "Or we can begin to evacuate the bulk of the students while still attempting to save those that may be trapped in the tower."  
  
Neither Pomfrey or Flitwick said anything, staring at each other for a very long time. But in the end their shoulders slumped forward and they reluctantly nodded in agreement. With a deep sigh, Flitwick climbed back upon the table and clapped his hands.  
  
"May I have your attention, please?" he asked. The quiet buzz of the student's conversations immediately ceased. "Please listen carefully..."  
  
Snape turned and made his way out of the hallway and paid no attention to the rest of the speech. Behind him, he heard the clicking of heels as Padma and Luna scurried after him, having to take two steps to make up for each of his long strides. As they came to the staircase leading down to the dungeons he paused and waited for them to catch up with him.  
  
"Now then," he said, turning his gaze to the blonde girl. "I have placed a ward upon the dungeons that would allow only teachers and prefects access to the passageways. Therefore, you will not be able to accompany us. You may either stay here and stand guard, or proceed to the Gryffindor Tower and get as close to the entry way as you can."   
  
Without a word, Luna turned and headed in the opposite direction.  
  
"May I suggest that your wand will be of more use being kept in your hand?" he called after her.   
  
Just before she disappeared around the corner, she casually reached up to remove the wand from behind her ear.  
  
"I'm going too!" declared Padma, but before she could take a step, she found Snape's hand clamped angrily down upon her arm, preventing her movement.  
  
"No," he hissed "You are needed here first."  
  
"But why?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.  
  
"That will become clear in a moment," he snorted, releasing his hold and turning to descend the staircase. It apparently took her several seconds to come to a decision, for he was nearly finished removing the wards from the storeroom door before she joined him.  
  
"Wands at the ready?" he urged, as he put his left hand upon the doorknob and gripped his own wand in his right.  
  
"Aren't these _your_ students in there?" she said in a confused manner, even as she raised her wand to a defensive position.  
  
"I certainly hope so," he taunted. "But they, of course, can not be assured if it is friend or foe on this side, so it would appear prudent to be prepared for an attack."  
  
He threw the door open. In a quite anticlimactic manner, the two Slytherin twins sheepishly shuffled out of the closet.  
  
"Is it all over, then?" asked one.  
  
"Not quite," replied Snape.  
  
"Can we go now?" demanded Padma, dropping her hands to her hips and looking at them in disgust. "Or are you still seeing enemies in every shadow?" she taunted, glaring at Snape.  
  
"Not at all, Miss Patil," he replied smoothly, a strange smile spreading across his face. "The enemies you should fear most are usually in plain view." He pointed his wand at her. _"Expelliarmus!"_  
  
"What?" cried Padma, as her wand flew out her wand and fell obediently into Snape's outstretched fingers.  
  
_"Stupefy!"_ he cried, stepping toward her.  
  
This time, she didn't even have time to cry out before her body collapsed upon the floor. Snape strode over to her and used the tip of his boot to nudge her over on her back. Standing over her, he pointed his wand again, this time aiming at her head. _"Obliviate!"_  
  
"Now then," he said, stepping away from her and returning his attention to the boys who were standing and staring at him with their mouths open. "She should remain unconscious for several hours, at least. I think you should keep this," he added, handing Padma's wand to the nearest one. "The escape route is behind the large mirror on the fourth floor-I assume you are familiar with it?"  
  
The boy holding Padma's wand continued to stare down at it in wonder, but his brother nodded his head.  
  
"Good, then may I suggest you use _'Mobilicorpus'_ to take the young lady's body with you?"  
  
"We're-we're taking her with us?" asked the first boy, finally breaking out of his stupor.  
  
"Of course," snarled Snape, tilting his head to the side. "I assure you that she will have no memory of what just happened here. Therefore, she will be in no position to contradict you when you inform Flitwick and Pomfrey that we were attacked. Although Miss Patil was stunned, we managed to fight them off and you were able to make your escape. The last you saw of myself and Miss Lovegood, we were headed to the Tower to liberate the others."  
  
"But, if we're stopped by Death Eaters-" began the second twin. He paused and looked terrified, his mouth hanging open.  
  
"Think, boy!" Snape hissed.  
  
"We tell them that _we _disarmed her and offer her as a hostage!" said his brother, breaking into a laugh.  
  
"I see you have earned your place in this House after all," replied Snape, nodding his head. As he turned and made his way up the stairs he heard the twins whisper the spell together, and when he glanced back over his shoulder he saw that the girl's body was now hanging limply in the air. Turning back, he was momentarily surprised to realize that the Bloody Baron had reappeared in front of him.  
  
"I see you're out to save your own skin, Snape," he commented.  
  
"You seem surprised," he taunted, brushing through him and ignoring the bone-chilling cold as he did so.   
  
"Oh, not at all," the ghost called after him. "You earned your place in this House years ago."  
  
Yes, he thought to himself. I certainly have.  
  
By the time he made his way through the school he noticed that the hallways were fast becoming shadowy and dim. It appeared that the cloud that was surrounding the castle was continue to grow, blocking out the light.   
  
In a few moments, he was entering the passageway which led to the Gryffindor staircase. As Pomfrey and Flitwick had said, the staircase itself appeared to be in pieces, great chunks having blown away and impeding progress through the dark, dusty arch.   
  
The girl was standing in the midst of the rubble, pointing her wand carefully and blowing away chunks of the debris as she attempted to make her way through the room.  
  
"That'll take too long," he noted, coming up behind her.  
  
"Oh, I don't know," she answered, showing no surprise at hearing his voice behind her although she had not once looked away from her labors. "If we both concentrate for a while, I think we'll be able to clear a path."  
  
"Why not just blast a hole through the ceiling?" he asked, standing back and studying the room for a moment.  
  
"No, I think that the whole tower might collapse then," she answered, aiming her wand again and blasting away another pile of rubbish.  
  
"I disagree," he said, pointing his own wand at the ceiling and taking careful aim. "If one selects the target carefully, the results can be quite satisfying." With a casual wave of his hand, a stream of green light flew out of the wand and hit upon a small boulder that was hanging precariously from the ceiling. A moment later it had come loose and descended noiselessly through the air before colliding, with a loud thump, against the girl's skull..  
  
He glided over to where she had fallen and bent over her body, his fingers searching for her pulse. To his relief, it remained strong and steady. Leaning down even further, he allowed the strands of his long, dark hair to fall upon her lips and was pleased to see the ends wave gently as she breathed in and out. Satisfied that she was merely unconscious, he rose back to his feet.  
  
"It appears you were right, Miss Lovegood," he murmured. "It is much to dangerous to disturb the ceiling. I do hope you don't mind waiting here while I find another way into the Gryffindor common room?"  
  
He paused and cocked his head to the side, as if awaiting an answer.  
  
"Since you have no objections, I will proceed," he smirked. "By the way," he added, stepping back and looking around him again. "I am sure that if any Death Eaters do wander this way that they will be most pleased that such an infamous member of 'Dumbledore's Army' has been careless enough to fall into their hands."  
  
Reluctantly placing his wand inside of his pocket, he closed his eyes and concentrated on performing the transfiguration. It had been years since he had last assumed his Animagus form. Not that he was displeased with it, but there were times when his appearance garnered unwanted attention. Today, however, it not only afforded him a means by which to access the Gryffindor tower but, if he were to be glimpsed, he had no doubt that people would be unsurprised the appearance of such a creature.   
  
He grunted softly as he felt his torso and limbs begin to lengthen, and then fell forward, sound of his hooves clanging sharply against the stones as his arms transformed into forelegs. The snort turned into a neighing sound as he the wings sprouted from his withers. A moment later he felt them unfurl and with stretch out to their full span. He crouched down for a moment and then sprung into the air.   
  
Even those observers who were able to view Thestrals would have been hard-pressed to pick out his dark form against the dark cloud swirling around the castle.  
  
But his white, pupil-less eyes seemed to see clearly through the haze and within only a few seconds he was hovering outside the besieged Gryffindor common room. He had expected to use his strong back legs and sharp hooves to kick out one of the windows, but it appeared it was not necessary. All of the glass in each casement had already been shattered, and where the largest window had once stood there was now merely a large, gaping hole. It was so huge, in fact, that he didn't even have to draw in his wings to glide through the opening.  
  
He alighted noiselessly upon the carpet and remained in his transfigured form as he studied the drama unfolding in front of him. A group of dementors was circling around the room, trying to get close to the lone beleaguered and bloodied figure that was standing in front of the fireplace. An overturned couch was serving as a barricade in front of her, but her true defense was the thin haze of grey smoke emerging from her wand. Following it to the floor, he could just make out the small and wispy form of an otter that was gamboling upon the rug.   
  
Judging from the momentary glance she threw in his direction, it would also seem that Miss Granger was no longer one of those who had never seen the face of death. The dementors, however, gave him no notice as they continued to bob softly around the room.  
  
It took him only a moment to come to his decision, and if one were watching carefully, you might have seen that the wand was clutched in his fingers even as his bony wrist still bore a certain resemblance to a fetlock.  
  
_"Expecto patronum!"_ he yelled, pointing his wand in the direction of the shrouded figures. The light that flashed out of the tip quickly coalesced into the image of a Thestral. It appeared to be a duplicate image of the creature who had seconds before been standing in Snape's place, except this one was blindingly white.  
  
The dementors, who had ignored his arrival, drew back in fear as the Thestral charged towards them, and within a few seconds they had hastily departed out of the fissure through which he had just entered. The winged horse followed them and quickly disappeared from view.  
  
As Hermione wearily lowered her wand, the translucent otter also evaporated into nothingness.  
  
"Thank you, Professor Snape," she gasped.  
  
"You surprise me, Miss Granger," he said, gliding over to her. "I would have thought that someone with your abilities would be able to produce a much more substantial patronus."  
  
"I-I-" she murmured, collapsing completely upon the stones of the hearth.   
  
"But, then again, you do seem to have been severely injured in the attack," he allowed.  
  
Now that he was close enough to peer over the couch, he could see that two bodies were already huddled upon the floor. Although one of the girl's heads was covered in blood, it could be seen that some of the redness came from the natural color of her hair. So the Weasley girl and been attacked and beside her, presumably, lay the body of Parvati Patil. To add to the incongruity of the situation, all three appeared to be dressed in warm flannel pajamas.  
  
"Are they dead?" he asked, raising his eyes back to her face.  
  
"I don't think so," she whispered, "At least they weren't before, but they need help."  
  
"Obviously," he said, stepping over the couch and kneeling down beside them. Although their pulses were much fainter than Miss Lovegood's had been, they appeared to be stabilized for the moment.  
  
"Maybe you can transfigure again and carry us down," Hermione suggested, looking at him hopefully.  
  
"That is possible," he said, frowning distastefully at his hands which were now covered with the girls' blood. As he rose to his feet, there gloom outside the window suddenly cleared, and at the same time a roar arose from the direction of the front lawn.  
"Stay down!" he ordered, as she weakly tried to stand up again. Striding over to the window, he stared down onto the grounds.  
  
"Is it over?" she asked.  
  
Voldemort himself was walking across the snow-covered lawn, a throng of jubilant Death Eaters surrounding him as he neared the front steps. As he rose up the stairs, the doors of the school flew upon and a small group of robed and white-masked figures emerged from the portal. Walking among them were the Slytherin twins and one of the Death Eaters was jubilantly pointing his wand at Padma Patil's still-unconscious figure, which was twisting slowly as she hung in the air. And behind them came Argus Filch, a delighted smile plastered onto his ugly face.  
  
"So that's who the informant was," Snape whispered softly.  
  
He continued to watch as all of the Death Eaters fell upon their knees, followed immediately by the twins and Filch as Voldemort waved his wand triumphantly into the air. The girl's body continued to sway in a ghostly manner above the crowd.  
  
He wondered if the others had managed to escape. Since there appeared to be no other hostages or bodies being brought forth for the Dark Lord's perusal, he rather suspected that they had. Though he was surprised that they did not appear to have discovered Miss Lovegood's body as yet. That might buy him a few more minutes time, he thought. But not enough time to allow an escape, he decided.  
  
"What did you say?" It was the girl's voice behind him.  
  
"I said," he replied, turning back to face her, "That, yes, it is over, Miss Granger."  
  
"Thank you for rescuing me," she said, her body visibly weakening again as she slumped against the fireplace.  
  
His laughter was loud and harsh.  
  
"I very much doubt that I deserve your thanks, Miss Granger," he said, gliding back to her. "Within a few minutes time we shall be facing Lord Voldemort himself. If, as I suspect, he has already condemned me as a traitor, I have saved you from the Dementor's Kiss only to sentence us both to a long and painful death."  
  
The girl's face paled visibly, contrasting sharply with the streaks of blood that were beginning to cake upon her cheeks..  
  
"If, on the other hand, I am able to persuade him that I am still among the most loyal of his servants-"  
  
He paused and knelt down in front of her, studying her carefully for a moment before smiling and bending down to brush his lips against her forehead.   
  
She drew back, fear and disgust showing plainly in her eyes.   
  
"You will wish I had killed you myself."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter Two

ES  
  
Chapter 2  
  
"No," she whispered, a hint of despair and confusion tingeing her voice.   
  
Snape tilted his head to the side and regarded her with curiousity. "No, Miss Granger?" he asked, his voice soft and mocking.  
  
"No," she repeated, much more vehemently this time. "You-you're not really a Death Eater. You are-you just-spy-pretend-" she sputtered, struggling to find the words, raising both hands to brush back the snarl of thick, bushy hair from her face.  
  
Snape continued to study her, his ears still straining to hear the sound of any movement from the area of the window and noting, at the edge of his peripheral vision, the exact position of her wand upon the floor.  
  
"Dumbledore trusts you!" she finally shouted, her hands dropping away from her face and clenching into fists. "I've told Harry and Ron that-"  
  
"Oh, yes, I am sure that you have," he snarled. "In fact, you've probably told them that dozens of times haven't you?"   
  
He leaned towards her again, causing her to instinctively draw away from him.   
  
_"Oh, boys, you're wrong!" _he mimicked, in a high and bossy tone. _"Dumbledore trusts Snape, so you're wrong to be suspicious of him!"_   
  
She winced slightly and drew further away. Snape's lip curled triumphantly upward, certain that his barb had struck a sensitive point.  
  
"I thought you had finally realized that Dumbledore was not quite as infallible as you thought; that upon occasion the old fool allows sentiment to mislead him into believing that what he _wishes_ to be real is true."  
  
"No, you're lying!" she shouted.  
  
"Yes, perhaps I am," he agreed, his smile widening even more. "Perhaps he truly did know that I was not to be trusted, but he was using me to achieve his own ends? Rather a Slytherinish maneuver for such an exemplary Gryffindor, don't you think?"  
  
"Please," she moaned softly, closing her eyes as her shoulders sagged tiredly.  
  
"But, of course what is condemned as deceit in a Slytherin is applauded as resourcefulness in a Gryffindor, isn't it?" he jeered.   
  
"Please stop!" she whispered, shivering slightly as she kept her eyes shut.  
  
"Oh, dear me, have I tarnished some of your quaint, childish perceptions of your world? Not quite ready to have some of your safe, misguided illusions of the world shattered?"  
  
"Look, " she began, opening her eyes and brushing her hair back once more, "There may be a way out of this-if we work together we can-"  
  
"Work together?" he repeated, rising to his feet and staring down at her in amazement. "Do you really have no idea what my opinion of you and your abilities are?" He laughed shortly before bending down to loom over her. "Do you really not know how distasteful it has been to endure your presence in my classroom for the past seven years?"  
  
She stared up at him, her head shaking slightly as her eyes implored him to stop.  
  
"Dear Merlin, you are such an annoying little Mudblood," he hissed. "So damned confident, so _eager _to share your vast knowledge with us lesser mortals." Pulling himself back to full height, he glared down at her and continued: "Such a self-satisfied little prig of a bluestocking, so certain that all the answers to life's problems are buried in the pages of some dusty old tome or written upon an ancient piece of parchment. That all the solutions are waiting there for the dedicated and industrious Miss Granger to find them."  
  
It was hard to tell between the streaks of blood, but it looked as if a faint blush had appeared upon her pallid cheeks.  
  
"You have always been an infuriating know-it-all, so very sure of what is right and wrong, of what is good or evil," he continued, sneering down at her and pleased to see that her eyes were beginning to fill with tears.  
  
"You are about to find out that very little in life is as black or white as it appears upon the printed page. Most of us live out our lives in varying shades of grey." A short, barking laugh issued from between his thin lips. "Some, admittedly, darker than others," he added, holding out his left hand.  
  
For the briefest of moments, she stared at him in disbelief, as if wondering why, after such a diatribe, he should be offering to help her to her feet.  
  
_"Accio wand!"_ he called, and she gasped as her wand sprang up from the floor and directly to his outstretched fingers. "Thank you, Miss Granger" he said, shrugging his shoulders, "Being careless enough to drop your wand made it much easier than having to disarm you," he drawled, pointing his own wand directly at her face.  
  
"Are you going to kill me?" she asked, her eyes staring up at him defiantly.  
  
"Oh, dear, time for the much-vaunted Gryffindor courage to evince itself," he mocked. "Of course not, you stupid girl, you are much too valuable a pawn for me to throw away just yet. I need you very much alive...for now."  
  
_"This way!"_  
  
The shout had come from the area of the broken window, and both of them turned their heads in the direction of the sound. Although the black smoke had almost completely receded there was no sign of either the dementors or the Death Eaters.  
  
"But I am afraid," Snape said, turning back to face her and taking careful aim, "That neither can I afford to leave you conscious at the moment."  
  
She continued to glare up at him mutinously, refusing to look away. Behind him, his ears discerned the sound of brooms speeding through the air and knew that he had at best only seconds until someone would burst in upon them. He had really intended to use just a simply stunning spell upon her, to make sure that she would not be awake to contradict whatever story he would concoct to explain his actions to Voldemort. But he suddenly realized that stronger measures were required.  
  
"Crucio!" he whispered, his voice soft but steady.   
  
She was in such a weakened state that she collapsed almost immediately, her brief shriek of agonizing pain fading away even as her body continued to twitch spasmodically under the effects of the spell. He kept his wand trained upon her, only ending the curse as he heard the thud of boots hitting the floor as a lone rider came swooping in through the window.  
  
"Ah, there you are, Severus!"  
  
"Yes, Lucius," he answered, abruptly lowering his wand, "Here I am." Turning to face the new arrival he clasped his hands in front of him, but kept his wand tightly clenched in his fingers as he watched the wizard alight from his broom. "Have you been looking for me?"  
  
Malfoy had already raised his Death Eater mask away form his face and was peering curiously at the still figures on the other side of the sofa.  
  
"Not particularly," he drawled, bending down to examine Hermione's body more closely, using the tip of his boot to nudge her onto her back. "Though we were rather surprised not to find you in the dungeons." Glancing up, he threw Snape a cold smile. "And then the dementors came fleeing out of this tower, apparently driven away by a Patronus in the shape of a Thestral." Straightening up, he casually threw back his long blond hair and raised his eyebrows. "I knew you had produced it, of course, though it did seem rather out of character for you."  
  
"Really, Lucius?" he answered, frowning slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you doubt my ability to produce a patronus? Or are you under the mistaken belief that I am particularly fond of the company of dementors?"  
  
"Oh, of course not," replied the other wizard, stepping forward. "But you must have realized that-"  
  
Both men turned to the window as a new pair of Death Eaters flew into the room. Although the breadth of the aperture was sizable, the sheer bulk of the riders made it a difficult maneuver, and they collided in midair, both of the men falling to the ground with a crash.  
  
"I see Crabbe and Goyle have decided to join us," noted Snape dryly as the hefty figures struggled to free themselves from the tangle of robes and broomsticks. "How convenient."  
  
"Convenient?" echoed Malfoy, grimacing contemptuously at the duo before returning his attention to Snape. "How so?"  
  
"Three trophies to be carried to the Dark Lord, and three wizards with brooms to deliver them," he answered.  
  
"Ah, yes, but I would not be so certain that our leader will be pleased with such a present," warned Malfoy, a small smile curling up the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Why would he not be pleased that I have captured the famous Harry Potter's little mudblood friend?"  
  
"Because obviously, Severus," said Malfoy, tilting his nose upward, "The Dark Lord sent the dementors here with specific orders to deliver a kiss to her."  
  
"Then he should be quite grateful that I intervened," he replied airily. "For it would been a regrettable error had they succeeded in carrying out his wishes."  
  
"Do you intend to tell him that?" challenged Malfoy, frank incredulity in his voice.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I do," he answered calmly. "But I will need your help in transporting them. If you would be so kind?" he asked, gesturing towards the girl's immobile form.  
  
"I'll not soil my broomstick carrying a damned Mudblood," he protested, the nostrils of long, aristocratic nose flaring in disdain.  
  
"Very well," answered Snape, his voice still implacably composed. "Why don't you take_ her_ instead?" he asked, pointing toward Ginny Weasley's body.   
  
"Arthur Weasley's little brat?" he said, advancing upon her with some interest. "Very well," he said, sighing and reaching into the pocket of his robe for his wand. A moment later the girl's slight frame had risen from the floor and was floating through the air. "But who is the third one?" he asked, frowning down at Parvati.  
  
"No one of any consequence," Snape answered, shrugging. "But she_ is_ a considerable beauty. It would be a shame for her to die so quickly when the Death Eaters might be allowed to play with her awhile. I daresay she could provide some very interesting sport."  
  
"Why, Severus," Malfoy said, affecting a shocked tone as he aimed his wand towards his broomstick and caught it with his other hand as it sprang up into the air. "I thought that as a teacher you were impervious to the physical charms of your female students."  
  
"Impervious, Lucius?" he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I assure you that, as I am neither blind nor a eunuch, I cannot claim that the close proximity to a bevy of nubile young women has been without its temptations. However, it was hardly prudent to succumb to such an enticement with Dumbledore observing my every action."  
  
"That impediment appears to have been removed," Malfoy observed, positioning himself on the broom with Ginny's body in front of him.  
  
"Indeed," he replied shortly. With a wave of his wand, the bodies of both Parvati and Hermione went wafting through the air over to where Crabbe and Goyle were standing, having finally managed to disentangle themselves.  
  
"I thought I already saw her downstairs," murmured Crabbe, his thick brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at Parvati.  
  
"She is a twin," hissed Snape, shaking his head in irritation.  
  
"Ah," he said, nodding up and down and reaching out to grasp the girl's arm and pull her toward his broom. As she slumped towards him, Snape noticed with slight revulsion that his hands were roaming over the girls small but firm breasts. "That leaves the other one for you, eh?" he called over to Goyle.  
  
The other wizard was staring at Hermione as she continued to hang, suspended in midair before him. "But, Malfoy says the Dark Lord doesn't want her alive," he protested, refusing to reach out for her.  
  
"Take her, you idiot!" thundered Snape, completely losing patience with the thick-witted oaf.  
  
"Go on, Goyle," murmured Malfoy, who was idly drawing his fingers through Ginny's blood-stained tresses as he hovered upon his broom near the window. "I assure that Severus has every intention of accompanying us on our journey and that our Lord will be much more interested in hearing his explanations as to why he kept the bitch alive than in punishing you for delivering her in such a condition."  
  
"Absolutely," replied Snape, a grim smile appearing upon his face.  
  
Goyle reluctantly mounted his broom but continued to stare at the girl's body as if reluctant to touch her.   
  
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," muttered Snape, moving forward and pointing his wand toward the handle of Goyle's broomstick. A long, thick rope appeared, one end winding around the broomstick as the other knotted itself around the girl's waist. "There," he said, stepping back slightly and placing his wand back in his pocket. "You may pull her along behind you rather than hold her if it will make you feel more secure."  
  
A moment later, he had transformed back into his animagus form, and there was no further conversation as the group flew out through the window and slowly began their descent. As Malfoy led them around the remains of the tower and down to the ground floor, Snape noted that while the damage to the castle had not been extensive, the targeted areas had been quite effectively devastated. As they neared the front doors, he saw that the thick and ancient doors had been blown off of their hinges, allowing them to fly directly into the entry hall. Outside of the Great Hall, however, they slowed and the other men dismounted from their brooms as Snape swiftly transfigured himself once more.   
  
The crowd of Death Eaters inside the hall were celebrating loudly, but a hush quickly fell over them as the strange procession came down the narrow aisle that remained in the center of the room between the large house tables. Snape led the way, followed by Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, the girls' bodies bobbing gently in front of them as they made their way to the other side of the room. As they reached the ends of the house tables the other men stopped, leaving Snape to continue on alone.  
  
The large staff table that usually occupied the front of the room had disappeared, but the podium it had stood upon was still standing. It had been magically elevated, however, hanging several feet above the ground now as if suspended by invisible wires from the ceiling. In the very middle of the dais stood Dumbledore's chair, and ensconced upon its worn but comfortable cushions was Lord Voldemort, his red eyes blazing with triumph as he surveyed the chamber.   
  
Standing on either side of Voldemort, and clearly reveling in their positions of favor were Pettigrew and Filch. Both men had wide, almost manic grins plastered upon their faces as they watched the tall, dark figure approach the platform.   
  
"My Lord!" he cried, gracefully falling down to his knees for a moment before moving to prostrate himself on the ground directly beneath Voldemort's feet as they hung in midair over the edge of the dais.  
  
"Severus!" The Dark Lord's voice was soft but carried clearly across the whole chamber. "My faithful servant."  
  
"Yes, my Lord," murmured Snape into the dust of the floor.  
  
"You have served me well for a long time from within these walls, have you not?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
"Rise, Severus."  
  
Snape waited a few more moments, and then cautiously rose to his knees.  
  
"I do hope that you are not angry with me for not giving your forewarning of the attack?" whispered Voldemort, a grotesque approximation of a smile flitting across his face as he continued to stare down at the dark-robed figure before him. "But the opportunity to exploit a weakness in this considerable fortress came about so unexpectedly that I had no time to inform you of my plans."  
  
"I only wish I could have been of more help to you, my Lord." answered Snape, finally daring to raise his gaze to Voldemort's face.   
  
"Really, Severus?" There was a definite coldness to his tone now and Snape found himself having to fight back a shiver as he continued to stare up into those strange, snakelike eyes. "Then why, if your only wish is to serve me, did your intervene when I sent the dementors to deliver their kiss?"  
  
"Because, my Lord, it would have been a mistake."  
  
The crowd took in a loud, collective gasp and then there were several long moments of silence.  
  
"A mistake, Severus? Do you not think Potter would have been devastated to learn of her condition?"  
  
"Of course, my Lord," he answered, dropping his gaze back down to the floor again, but keeping his voice strong and steady. "But you have already accomplished that by attacking McGonagall, a person that both Potter and the Headmaster hold in high regard. I am sure that, upon learning of _her _fate, Albus will berate himself for allowing her to suffer in his place, and Potter himself will be determined to avenge the fallen head of his house."  
  
"Then why not double their anguish by delivering two victims instead of one?"  
  
"Because my Lord, Potter is surrounded by too many people, who would take great care to ensure that he did not act upon his impulse to try and exact his revenge immediately. In time, Albus would be able to persuade him that in order to defeat you, he must act slowly and deliberately."  
  
Voldemort shrugged. "Will he not try to do so anyway?"  
  
"Of course, my Lord, but you see-" Snape paused and took in a deep breath before continuing. "You found yourself two years ago that the best way to ensure that Potter acts recklessly and impulsively is to have him believe he must act in order to _prevent _an injury from befalling one whom he loves." His dark eyes slowly swept back up to Voldemort's face. "Had you sent him Sirius Black's head on a platter, you would have dealt him a painful blow, but you would never have lured him into the Ministry of Magic."  
  
"Hmm."   
  
Snape kept his eyes trained on Voldemort's face as he slowly began to rise to his feet.  
  
Turning slightly, he pointed a finger in Hermione's direction. "If you send Potter that girl's lifeless or soulless body, you will undoubtedly succeed in wounding him deeply. But if instead you keep her here, making him worry and wonder as to what has happened to her..."  
  
Snape smiled and pivoted back towards Voldemort. "You will drive him mad."  
  
Voldemort stared at him for several seconds and then began to chuckle, his voice dry and raspy.  
  
"Very clever, Severus, " he admitted, nodding his head approvingly.   
  
"You could always kill her anyway and not say anything," said Filch, stepping forward and suddenly breaking into the conversation. "She's a powerful witch, 'specially for a Mudblood," he added. "I think it's too dangerous to keep her alive."  
  
With difficulty, Snape suppressed a smile. It was amazing how an untalented Squib like Filch could be so envious of a Muggleborn.  
  
"If I may, my Lord?"  
  
This was Malfoy's voice now.  
  
"I must agree with Severus that she is worth much more to us as a hostage than as a corpse. As to Argus' suggestion-" Malfoy's eyes flitted over Filch's filthy clothes, his expression one of bemused contempt, "Should we kill her, word of her demise would undoubtedly eventually leak out. Rumors have _such_ an unfortunate habit of spreading beyond these walls."  
  
Snape's black eyes narrowed as Malfoy threw him a friendly smile. He didn't trust the blond wizard for at any time, much less when the wily wizard appeared to be supporting him.  
  
"What are you suggesting, Lucius?" asked Voldemort, his red eyes burning with interest.  
  
"She is not the only girl with family and friends who will be eagerly awaiting news of her fate," he said, stepping closer to the platform. "We also have Arthur Weasley's daughter as our prisoner."  
  
"Oh, yes," wheezed Voldemort, "Little Ginny, who was such a pliable accomplice in the past," he chuckled.  
  
"But a member of 'Dumbledore's Army' a few years ago," reminded Lucius, a small, insincere sigh escaping from his lips.  
  
Snape found himself scowling at the ground. A few minutes ago Malfoy had been ready to either hand all of the girls to the dementors or leave them for dead. Although it was encouraging to feel that Malfoy's sudden switch in attitude was due to the fact that he felt Voldemort was beginning to like the idea of keeping the girls alive but imprisoned, he still preferred not to have to depend on him as an ally in this proposal.  
  
"This one was too!" shouted a voice.  
  
A moment later the figure of Luna Lovegood was thrust through the crowd onto the flagstones of the floor near Malfoy's feet.  
  
"Ah, yes, the daughter of that crazy loon who publishes the Quibbler," noted Malfoy, gazing down at her. "I am sure he will be most anxious to publish the most outlandish theories as to what has befallen those who endured the initial attack."  
  
Although she had been bound and gagged, the force of her fall had loosened the kerchief that had been tied around her mouth.  
  
"You bastard!" she shrieked, glaring at Snape, her words muffled but distinguishable.  
  
It was quite a surprise, he admitted, to see those protruding eyes so clear and focused and to hear that usually-dreamy voice raised and venomous  
  
"You tricked us," she screamed, as Goyle bent down and began to clumsily try and replace the gag within her mouth. "You made us follow you and then picked us off one by one!"  
  
Outwardly, Snape continued to sneer as Crabbe joined Goyle in securing her bonds and dragging her back to the edge of the crowd. But inwardly, he heaved a sigh of relief.  
  
_Thank you, Miss Lovegood. How shall I ever repay you? Those words should ensure Voldemort that I was indeed acting on his behalf._   
  
"There are other hostages?" asked Voldemort, his voice taking on a somewhat bored tone. "Of more interest than that poor wretch, I hope?"  
  
"Two twin sisters, my Lord," replied Malfoy, continuing to smile in a most ingratiating manner. "Not of any particular interest, but as Severus suggested-" He stepped over to Snape and clapped his hand upon his shoulder. "They may provide us with some entertainment. In fact, my Lord,-" Dropping his arm he knelt down and dipped his head for an instant. "I believe I have a rather amusing proposal."  
  
"And what would that be, Lucius?"   
  
"Why don't we sell these hostages as slaves-to the highest bidder of course," he said, throwing his hands out and looking quite pleased with himself.  
  
Snape was unable to keep himself from drawing in a deep, angry breath. Of course the blond bastard wanted to put them up for auction. Even a stay in Azkaban had failed to put a dent in the substantial Malfoy fortune, so he would have plenty of money with which to buy them all if he wanted. And it was imperative that Snape keep Hermione to himself if he had any hope of remaining afloat should the tide turn to Dumbledore's favor in the future.  
  
"An excellent suggestion, Lucius," replied Voldemort, nodding his head in approval. "Are there any objections?"  
  
Snape clenched his hands into angry fists and felt a muscle twitch in his jaw as he forced himself to meet Malfoy's smug, self-satisfied gaze.  
  
"None whatsoever," he whispered, forcing a smile onto his own lips. "You do realize, of course, that more than one of them is quite badly injured at the moment and may not live to be sold," he warned.  
  
"Well, now, I am sure that a skilled Potions Master such as yourself will be able to heal them in short order," answered Malfoy, waving his hand in the direction of the floating bodies. "Surely you do not doubt your own abilities in that area, do you, Severus?"  
  
"Not at all, Lucius," he replied, "However, it will be a lengthy and exhaustive process."  
  
He turned back to Voldemort and once more made another low obeisance. "I humbly beseech a small favour in return for my services."  
  
"As my servant, your talents will you be used as I direct." Voldemort's voice was cold and menacing.  
  
"Yes, my Lord" replied Snape, throwing himself onto the ground again. "And I have I not proven myself to be your faithful servant?"  
  
"Yes," he said, slowly. "You have." Linking his long, skeletal fingers together, he studied Snape thoughtfully. "Just what compensation do you seek, Severus?"  
  
"Allow me first choice of those that do survive," he replied quietly.  
  
"That's hardly fair, Severus," protested Malfoy, as a general murmur of disapproval ran through the crowd. "If the rest of us are willing to pay for them-"  
  
He was interrupted by Voldemort's cold, high laugh. "Oh, come now, gentlemen, surely we can compromise?" He was looking quite amused now, his recent victory seeming to have put him in a much better mood than usual. "Severus, I hereby give you permission to choose one of these pretty little wenches as your own concubine."  
  
"Thank you, my Lord, I am most-"  
  
"Provided that they _all_ survive your attempts to heal them," he added. "Fair enough?"  
  
Malfoy nodded his head grudgingly as Snape once again bowed down before Voldemort.  
  
_Damn. _   
  
Although he was not without some skill at healing, he was hardly a Mediwizard. And the healing process was going to be complicated by the fact that it was to be accompanied by a complete erasure of their memories-not that he had any intention of revealing that part of his plan as yet. He had rather hoped to experiment on the Patil twins first, perfecting the process before applying the technique to Granger. And should something go horribly wrong, he was quite prepared to administer a little more 'medicine' than necessary in order to erase the consequences of his failure.   
  
This was going to be even more difficult than he had bargained.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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End file.
